


double-scoop of sorbet (and your number on top)

by catchafallingstarfish (spaceboy_niko)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, ScrewAttack RPF
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, Ice Cream Shop AU, M/M, Meet-Cute, i gave myself cavities writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/catchafallingstarfish
Summary: It's been a long time since Chad's had a good ice cream in summer. The gorgeous blond serving him a scoopful of lemon-lime sorbet is about to change that.





	double-scoop of sorbet (and your number on top)

**Author's Note:**

> came up with this au in a very lovely ice cream shop over nutella taiyaki and unicorn ice cream w my buddy gabe
> 
> thanks also to tj and silas for being all nice and appreciative in the rt writer's discord

Summer holds a lot of nostalgic value for Chad – road trips out to the coast, leaping off the pier into cold saltwater and eating ice cream on the waterfront as the sun set, hair dripping and shoulders sunburnt.

Every year, he wonders if he could take a bit of time off over the summer, but he never gets around to it, and is left sweating in the city with only the memory of sand and salt crystallising in his hair.

At least there’s still the ice cream.

Well, there hasn't been for a while – Baskin-Robbins and Ben & Jerry’s can't hold a candle to the mom-and-pop ice cream parlours on the beach, and lactose doesn't exactly agree with him anymore – but as he drives home on a sweltering day, a new storefront catches his eye, a combination of blue and white that gives a little tug to the sentimental part of his brain.

He makes a hasty U-turn and pulls up on the opposite side of the road of Scoop Attack, glancing quickly for traffic before jogging across to the glass doors.

The air conditioning hits him like a blast to the face and a bell tinkles somewhere above his head. The radio plays quietly over speakers he can’t see – some Top 40 song he knows but doesn’t know.

“Hell of a day out there, isn’t it?” someone asks from behind the counter.

“God, it’s fucking ridiculous. You lucky bastard, getting to work in here all day.” Chad stands in line with the cold air and sighs in satisfaction.

“Nah, man, it’s the exact opposite kind of fuckin’ ridiculous in here. I’ve got a jacket back here that I’ve been in and out of all day.” Chad turns at the sound of fabric and zippers and oh, dear Lord, he’s going to have to buy a lot of ice cream from here.

The thin man behind the freezer cabinet has a half-smirk on his face, with blond hair falling over his glasses and framing his angular face. A well-worn hoodie that just has to be ridiculously soft hangs from one hand.

“Shit,” Chad manages.

“Yeah. Still. Could be worse, yeah?” The man throws his jacket back behind him and smiles properly at Chad, who tries not to forget how to stand.

“Definitely. Could be out there.” Chad tries to distract himself with the ice cream flavours, a whole rainbow of colours. “Have you guys been here long?”

“What, Scoop Attack? Nah. Only a couple weeks. Business’s been good, though. That’s one thing this stupid heatwave’s good for. Speaking of, do you wanna taste-test anything?”

Chad makes a slightly panicked noise as he tries to make a decision. That lemon-lime sorbet looks divine, and it’d mean he didn’t have to take any of his lactase pills.

“Cup of the lemon-lime sorbet?”

“Sure thing.” The man reaches a skinny arm in and scoops an almost-perfect sphere into a bright blue cup, sticking a matching spoon into it and sliding it over to Chad.

“Thanks, uh…”

“Sam. Sam Mitchell.”

“Chad James.”

“No problem, Chad James.” Sam grins, and Chad grins back helplessly as he takes a seat on one of the stools along the counter.

Sam busies himself behind the counter, cleaning off his scoop and taking the emptier tubs out of their places to replace them with new ones. Chad takes a spoonful of the sorbet and let it melt in his mouth. Of-fucking-course this guy has to be gorgeous as hell and sell the best ice cream he’d ever tasted.

He’s about halfway through his scoop when Sam coughs to break the silence. “Sorry, man, but I gotta let you know we close in fifteen.”

“Oh, shit, I’ll finish up and get out of your hair then,” Chad says quickly, and eats another spoonful.

“No, no, it’s fine! The company’s been nice. Better than a bunch of screaming kids who’re tired shitless from a day at fuckin’ Six Flags.” Sam mimes holding a gun to his head and Chad laughs almost too much.

The last spoonful swims in a little puddle of melted sorbet that fills up half his spoon. “That’s really fucking good, man.”

Sam looks flattered. “Thanks. I’ll pass the compliment on.”

Chad puts a ten on the counter and tells Sam to keep the change, and hurries out the glass doors to the air conditioning of his car.

He can see himself buying a lot of ice cream this summer.

* * *

The cute ginger guy – Chad, that’s his name – comes in as he’s serving two kids bubblegum ice cream, courtesy of their grandma. He smiles instead of waving and Chad gives him a little wave back as the grandma pays and the kids sit down.

“Back again?” he laughs.

Chad grins. “Yeah, the AC’s broken at work and ice cream seems like the best way to fix that. Well, sorbet,” he amends. “No lactose here until my lazy ass picks up new pills.”

“Dammit, and here I was thinking you’d like the cookie dough today.”

“Sorry, man. I’ll get new ones soon. But for now, which sorbet’s your favourite?”

“Aw, you can’t just trust my judgement on such an important decision!” Sam laughs, quickly scanning the freezer. “How does strawberry and ginger sound?”

“Strawberry and ginger sounds f–“ Chad cuts himself off, glancing back at the kids still eating behind him. “Really excellent.”

Sam waits anxiously as Chad tentatively eats the spoonful, trying very hard not to stare at his lips and god damn, Sam is never going to be able to look at those blue spoons properly ever again.

“What do you think?”

“Somehow even better than the lemon-lime, which I was convinced was the perfect sorbet.” Sam grins at Chad’s response. “Cup of that, if you don’t mind?”

“Anything for my favourite customer,” he answers as he fumbles a cup, and hopes he doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels.

Chad goes nearly as pink as the sorbet Sam hands him as he settles onto the same stool as every other time and sets his cup on the counter.

The kids leave noisily with their infinitely patient grandma, the bell ringing cheerily behind them.

“Hey, Sam?”

Sam turns around and Chad looks…nervous, of all things, poking his spoon into his sorbet.

“What time d’you get off work? Would you…maybe wanna go out for drinks or get dinner or something sometime?”

Sam’s brain forgets how to do the words, and he flubs around a little bit. “I, uh, yeah. Drinks. Drinks are good. I’m off at six. Are you free tonight? I’ve, uh, got a spare shirt in the back so if you wanted?” He decides he should stop before he succeeds in un-wooing Chad.

Chad blinks a couple times, and cracks a smile. “I can stick around til then.”

* * *

Sam’s spare shirt is very different from the black-and-blue polo emblazoned with the Scoop Attack logo, a lovely heather-grey button down that makes Chad feel very underdressed in his Filthy Casual t-shirt.

“You could’ve warned me you were going to dress so nice,” he says weakly.

“I’m not really,” Sam replies doubtfully, and Chad feels his heart flutter again.

A voice comes from in the back of the shop. “Yo Sam, you leaving now?”

“Yeah, man. Why, you still need me around?”

A guy in a Scoop Attack-blue polo sticks his head out from the back room and smiles at Chad. “Nah, you’re good. Looks like you got some company, hmm?” He winks, and Chad feels his face heat up.

“Bolen, c’mon,” Sam protests, slinging a cool arm protectively over Chad’s shoulders, and Bolen laughs, eyes crinkling in a smile behind his glasses.

“Hey, man, it’s cool. Don’t be so hungover you can’t come in tomorrow. Oh, and Ginger? Make sure he gets home okay, yeah? I will personally end you if he’s not in one piece tomorrow. Double scoop of the wrath of Bolen with a Craig ass-whoopin’ cherry on top.” He’s smiling, though, so Chad smiles nervously back.

“Shaun, please, can’t I have a Friday night without you all up on my ass?” Sam’s grinning, and Chad begins to relax a bit more. “Chad is, like, the least threatening person I’ve gone out for drinks with.”

“Good to know I’ve got that going for me,” Chad says, hesitantly sliding an arm around Sam’s back. Sam is totally okay with it, pulling him in just a little bit more and it’s nice, it’s so ridiculously nice.

“About as threatening as a fuckin’ Hello Kitty backpack, man,” Sam replies mock-seriously. “Pink glitter and everything.”

“Can’t believe you haven’t gone on one goddamn date yet and you’re already this sickening a couple. Go on, get out.” Bolen shoos them out with a cleaning cloth. “Use protection!” he calls after them, and Sam flips him off through the door.

“That’s my boss,” he laughs apologetically as they stand out in the summer heat. “World’s biggest first-date cockblock.”

“Don’t be,” Chad smiles. “Now, uh, I don’t really know where’s good around here, so you pick and I’ll pay?”

Sam creases his forehead. “I can pay, it’s no trouble.”

“Halvsies?”

“Deal.”

* * *

The bar is Sam’s local, walking distance from work. It’s fairly small but with a nice atmosphere, and they’re able to sit outside with their drinks in the slowly cooling afternoon as the sun tints everything orange.

Chad holds his liquor remarkably well, and drinks quickly, finishing his beer and starting a second in the time it takes Sam to drink half of his own. It’s not like he’s chugging it, either, because he’s talking very animatedly and Sam is clinging onto his every word.

“You do journalism? What kinda journalism?”

Chad suddenly goes quiet and mumbles something.

“Video game journalism? Like fuckin’ Polygon and shit?”

Chad visibly relaxes. “Yeah, but only not Polygon. Maybe one day.”

“I probably should’ve guessed by the shirt. Whatever, that’s still cool as shit,” Sam declares, and takes a sip of his beer.

Sam also learns that Chad has a cat and a dog back in Dallas that he misses and visits every Thanksgiving, that he’s a sometimes voice actor and a now-almost-never skater, and that his last ex broke up with him because he talked all through movies.

“Harsh.”

“Yeah, he didn’t care much about the arc length of the swing of Deadpool’s katana.” Chad shrugs and takes another drink, and Sam feels his heart skip at the pronoun and the fact that Chad’s movie commentary sounds totally adorable, holy shit. Sam’s misspent youth and fear of commitment is nowhere near as endearing.

Sam finishes his drink as they talk and ambient lights replace the faded daylight. When they finally go up to pay their tab, Chad sneaks his card in before Sam and shushes his objections.

“I’ll let you pay next time, okay?”

Sam’s gonna take the bastard somewhere with silver service and refuse to let him pay.

* * *

Chad walks Sam back to his car at the darkened side of Scoop Attack. He feels all warm and fuzzy, partly from the hot July air and the alcohol in his system and partly from the fact that somewhere along the walk Sam took his hand and is still holding it even though he should really let go and get into his car and drive away and maybe text Chad goodnight when he gets home.

But he doesn’t let go, and Chad is secretly very, very grateful.

Instead, Sam keeps one hand in Chad’s and rests the other on his shoulder and pulls him in, gently and lazily, and tilts his head and Chad closes his eyes because holy _fuck_.

Sam’s mouth is warm and tastes a little boozy, and Chad is content to lean his back into Sam’s car and move his hands to Sam’s shoulders as Sam’s hands settle onto Chad’s hips. They move nicely in tandem, he thinks, Sam confident yet soft and Chad willing to follow his lead.

Then Chad needs to breathe, and Sam smiles that crooked smile at him again and kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks for tonight.”

“Any time. We should do this again.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “The drinks date, or the kissing?”

Chad swallows. “Both.”

“I can do both,” Sam murmurs, and leans in again.

Chad never thought he’d be so thankful for ice cream.

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to pretty fly for a white guy about four times while editing this
> 
> if you still think i'm cool you could check out my tumblr (spaceboy-niko.tumblr.com) or my writing blog (catchafallingstarfish.tumblr.com)


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